


Be Still my Trembling Hand

by Soann



Series: And so Does the World Sing [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dehumanization, Forced Haircut, Gen, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soann/pseuds/Soann
Summary: Stories happening in the same universe as Searching for Shadows, bringing light on a few events that don't get explained much in the main story.Chapter 1: In the five years in between, Felix gets captured by bandits.Chapter 2: Back at the Officer's Academy, Yuri, Felix & Claude end up into a weird but scary situation.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Claude von Riegan & Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: And so Does the World Sing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045512
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. 1 - A Prideful Captive

**Author's Note:**

> There we go! So, this chapter was a result of a few thoughts hanging in my head, including one about how Felix, Sylvain and Ingrid's relationship came to be what it is at the beginning of Searching for Shadows, and one about why Ingrid and Felix's hair are shorter post TS. Since my brain enjoys bullying Felix far too much, this is what it came up with. I actually can't remember if there's sleeping magic in the game... I remember using some in other Fire Emblem games but not that one... Oh well, details.  
>  **Beware the warning tags! I don't think there's anything too graphic but we're still dealing with dehumanization and Sleep deprivation. Also some allusions to human trafficking, mostly implied to be sex trafficking.**  
>  If you don't think you can handle it, you can maybe skip until the first part is over (there's an asterisk as separation), I can't promise you'll understand everything but there's that at least.

**A Prideful Captive**

**Imperial Year 1184**

**Felix**

It had been a stupid mistake.

He had gone just a bit too far south and he knew it. He didn't have to go there. The trail had ended already. But he had thought that maybe, just maybe it might pick back up there.

A dumb mistake, born out of desperation, Felix thought bitterly as he squinted at his captors, his head heavy and painful with all the sleeping magic they had thrown at him. He was in some kind of dirty cell, hands tied up with chains. Had he used his crest and was that how they had known leaving him with simple rope couldn't have sufficed? Or maybe it had been the thunder magic...

Stupid mistake after stupid mistake, he ranted at himself in his head, he not only had gone above the borders that they had imposed for safety reasons, but he also had let them have the drop on him after choosing to go alone because... because he wanted to keep going and knew no one else would have.

Dumb mistake.

Dumb, dumb, dumb mistakes.

There was no way to get these chains off easily.

"Well look who's awake."

The first captor was looking at him, a sneer on his face. There were claw marks there, too, Felix thought with a pang of satisfaction, from when he had first tried to fight the sleep spell. He had been disarmed, far too easily, and maybe he also shouldn't have decided on such a risky mission on so little sleep, lesson learnt. But yeah, at least that wound wouldn't disappear for at least a few weeks, if Faith magic hadn't taken it away.

Well, if these people knew Faith magic to begin with. What kind of faith was to be expected from traitors to the crown after all.

Felix just glared back.

"Not very talkative are we?"

Felix rolled his eyes, ignoring him and taking stock of what was around him. The chains were held by a rusty hook. He might be able to break it and use it to free himself. Then there'd be the issue of the cell bars, though he was sure he'd find something. There was also a small cot and an old moldy chair.

Hands clutched his hair, forcing his head up so he'd look at his captor.

"Now listen you little shit..."

He spit on the man's face.

The fury in said man's eyes was the most beautiful sight he had seen in days. He bared his teeth in a mimicry of a smile. Let him regret taking him alive. He knew how to be the worst prisoner they'd ever had, they'd regret it soon enough. And being killed was better than being a prisoner these days.

The punch was worth it.

"Don't rough him up too much," another voice scolded, "we need him able to answer our questions."

"He's not going to answer anything," the last one said, "I don't think so. No, we'd have more chances at holding a ransom. He's clearly a noble brat, but whether he's a noble brat with money or with worth to the Empire is another question."

Oh, so he _hadn’t_ used his crest. Good, that was one good news, he might be able to use it and take them by surprise.

"Yeah," the second voice repeated, "we just need to know who he is. Depending on his answer, we might really need to go easy on him."

"He can take it," the first one spat, "have you seen the way he fought back? A fucking demon I swear. Almost clawed my eye out."

"A shame I missed," Felix growled back.

The second voice laughed, coming closer. It was a woman, wearing mercenary garb. Her eyes were calculating, and Felix hated seeing an expression he had grown fond of on her face. He snarled at her.

"I like him," she said lightly, "the noble brat has some fight in him instead of whimpering away like most of his brethren."

The chains clanged behind him as he tried to move his arms, almost by reflex, to strangle her. She turned to the third one, as if he had done nothing of the sort.

"What have we found on him?"

"Nothing much," it was another man, looking much more disinterested in him, "there wasn't even any gold, just a really, really nice silver sword. Whoever your daddy or mommy is, they have some money, don't they?"

More like an extensive armory, Felix thought, glaring at the man who dared handling his sword, a sword his father had given him, the one gift he had accepted from the old man in literal years... The other smiled and put it on his hip, as if it belonged to him.

"Probably enough money that this won't change anything," he said lightly, "now, who do we know on the rebel's side who has money?"

Rebels.

They called them rebels. Felix wanted to howl with bitter laughter at the audacity. Traitors and regicides, calling the last true loyal ones rebels. Felix had never held much love for the blind loyalty of his country. It was stupid, he thought, and the perfect way to die a pointless death.

He also knew that between a dead boar prince and the _witches_ of the west, he'd still choose His Beastliness before any of them. The man holding his hair pulled again and Felix hissed, changing the target of his glare.

"With how the war is sucking them dry, I don't think any of them has much to spare. Maybe he's not a noble?" the man said thoughtfully. "A rich merchant? That would be more of a problem."

"No way," the woman said, "look at him, all prideful, glaring and spitting venom instead of begging for his life. A stupid proud noble. I'm sure of it."

"Or he isn't worth anything," the last man said, coming closer too, Felix's sword still at his hip, "and that's why he stays silent."

"We'll figure something out if that's the case," the woman said with a casual hand gesture, “even if he can't bring us money or rewards, he's awfully pretty. That's always worth something on the market."

Felix tried to hit her again. She smirked when he glared harder, chin held high.

"Yeah, you are a proud one. Far too proud. That'll be the first thing to go."

They left him alone soon enough, still tied up and furious, as they went away for one reason or another. He pulled on the chains. The hook was much more resistant than he thought. Even after one burst from his crest, it refused to move. The chair was too moldy to sit on, he gave it a small kick and it broke, right there, without resistance. Even the cot looked more like an animal's den than an actual place to sleep in. Yet, he had slept in worse conditions, for sure. If their intention was for him to break because of how inhumane his accommodations were, they were going to wait a long time.

He spent hours in the dark, cursing his mistake and dissecting everything he could have done differently to avoid his predicament. As time passed, his thoughts became more detached as he analysed quietly. All the things he _needed_ to do differently so there'd be no next time.

He had been resting his eyes when the woman came back.

She was holding a bowl of broth, nothing appetizing, not that he was expecting anything else. Figure they'd need to feed him if they wanted him alive for ransom or whatever their intentions were if he was worth ‘nothing’. She laughed at the broken chair.

"Violent are we not?"

"It broke on its own," he snarled back, "your hospitality is lacking."

"Well I sure hope this mediocre meal shall satisfy you then, my Lord."

Felix scoffed, making her laugh again. He hated that laugh with a passion. She put the bowl down.

And then she left the cell.

Felix blinked in surprise and moved his arms as if their situation could have changed. The chains were still tightly tied around his wrists and arms, of course, she hadn't touched them.

"Aren't you going to untie me?" he growled.

The woman laughed and turned to him, her expression full of amused malice.

"Why?" she said softly. "You don't need your arms to eat. How do animals do it?"

And she left, her airy laughter echoing around him.

An animal.

Felix wanted to kill something. Preferably her. Swearing again and again at the world, he might have kicked the bowl of broth away in his anger, refused to look at it again, laid down on the cot and closed his eyes, figuring he'd find a plan to escape after a good night's sleep to chase off the spell that had hit him.

One of the men went to replace the food the following day, with a smirk but not even a word.

On the fourth day, Felix ate.

Let them lower their guard, he thought, pride forced down by patience and spite more than anger and hunger. Let them think they've won, let them think you're beaten down. Let him spare his strength, forgoing pride for a healthy body, or at least as healthy as possible. Because as long as he was healthy, he could fight back without them noticing. And after four days of being prideful and unsuccessful tries, he had relented. Because he could feel the chains, weakening under the strain of his crest. But it was weakening slowly. And if he wanted to sever it, it'd take many more days, and he needed to hang on until then.

So as hard as it was, he swallowed his pride and humanity and ate like a dog.

He would kill them all, he swore, he would. But he couldn’t if he wasn’t able to surrender that part of him.

Oh the woman was happy. One of the men snickered, mocking and smug, the last one didn't give a shit, too glad to play with that sword he had stolen from him to care about anything else. The woman was so happy, it almost felt like she was actually proud of him and it was the worst reaction of them all. She called him a good boy, tone not even condescending, but glad, joyful. Just like one would congratulate an obedient dog. He'd have bitten her had she gotten close enough, see how she liked him being a beast.

Unfortunately, they weren't happy for long. Then, they started acting as if he wasn't here. They'd busy themselves in front of him, talk, joke, mention him as if he had no voice, would ignore him if he spoke - not that he did much. More than once, one of the men threw something in his cell, not caring whether it hit him or not. And Felix grit his teeth, bearing it. They never left for long, leaving him with less time to work on his bonds as he felt himself getting weaker despite everything.

At night they were more awake than ever, keeping a joyous guard and making so much noise he didn’t know how no one had noticed them yet. During the day, there would always be one awake and doing their thing, sometimes turning to him, but only to give him orders, stupid orders. And if Felix, for one reason or another, actually obeyed (usually without thinking, standing when he was asked to for example, a reflex from his school days), he would be _rewarded_. More water. A blanket for when it became cold at night. More importantly than anything, sometimes, it means loosening the chains just a bit so his shoulders would hurt less, both allowing him for more power when he fought against them, and a reprieve, a relief, for his exhausted body.

They were training him, he thought, feeling ill, training him like you trained a dog to become obedient. And in his weakening state, the awful thing was that it was _working_. He remembered, bitterly, the moment he had considered obeying one of the stupider orders, because he was tired and hurting and had just wanted to be able to shut his eyes. One after the other, they always came, keeping him from truly resting, taking sick pleasure - especially that damn woman - when he was being compliant. And so he bit back his snapping, catching naps whenever he could and thinking, maybe a bit desperately, that Claude would have been proud of him for it.

And then, one day (how long had he been stuck here? Somewhere between nineteen and twenty days he'd think) they entered the cell. His nerves were scraped raw, he had barely slept for the last few days, he felt exhausted and hadn't even managed to work on the chains yesterday, they were _always_ there.

The woman was first, she forced his chin up and he did all he could not to glare, trying to look even more exhausted than he felt and to let none of his rage transpire.

He probably failed when she laughed.

"He still has some fire, isn't he a good boy?"

"That's probably better that way," one of the men said, "some like spitfires. They like breaking them."

"Yeah, maybe. But well, there are good news and bad news, pretty boy. Which one do I start with?"

Felix rolled his eyes, knowing he didn’t need to ask for an answer he didn’t actually want.

"Well the bad news is that we haven't found any noble family looking for their brat, so we've deduced that you were just a commoner who had luck at the looks roulette and somehow found a precious sword somewhere. Lucky you! But did no one tell you that stealing was bad?"

Not smirking was hard. Rolling his eyes at their hypocrisy even harder. In truth, he was a bit surprised, maybe, but not that much. His father and friends knew him. If he hadn't come back, they had probably expected him to have died in a ditch somewhere, so they wouldn't be looking for him. He briefly wondered how his father reacted. Did he say he was proud of him for dying in a probable fight? Not as heroic as dying to protect the prince, but probably good enough for the good-for-nothing second son who could only ever be a disappointment. Goddess, his father might not even know where he had gone… Or how he would have died… he wasn’t sure why, exactly, it was hitting him, right now, as if somehow that was the thing that should choke him up...

"The good news is that it means we have to preserve your pretty face, since it's your only value! So rejoice, we're not going to beat you down."

That he had noticed. He thought, during the worst days, that it would have been better if they had been physically torturing him. At least he’d know they saw him as a human being. The first guy, the one who was missing right now, certainly seemed to want to. But no, they needed him healthy to... sell him, apparently?

"However, we're going to take what we can. I hear wigs can catch quite a penny on the market these days and you've got damn beautiful hair. I'm a bit jealous to be honest."

What the hell was she... ?

"Hold him, Marc," the woman said in a sing-song voice, "we need to do this well. It'll be of more use this way than it is on him anyway."

And just like that, as if he didn't have say in the matter, she cut his hair.

She cut it short, taking as much as she could.

And he just sat there, frozen, as she was doing so. Yes, the man had been holding him, but he could have moved, made her miss her mark even if the consequences had been the cissors grazing his head. He just couldn't move, a cold, disgusting feeling sinking inside his stomach as she simply... took his hair.

He had never been a vain person. But somehow, his hair? It had been the one thing he had really liked about himself. He remembered thinking of cutting it once, after Glenn, after looking in the mirror and wondering if he'd start looking too much like him. Sylvain would probably never know how he had changed his mind with just one sentence, a light and teasing "Man I wish I had nice hair like yours, it's like a midnight sky!". Felix remembered scolding him, telling him that he was no maiden to flirt with (and thinking that red like fire was just as beautiful), but also looking at himself and thinking that Sylvain was right and that he _really_ liked his hair.

"That reminds me of some story I read," the man said with a light voice, " where a Lion gets all of his mane hacked off because of his pride. The Lion is the emblem of Faerghus isn't it?"

"That's appropriate," the woman laughed, tugging a bit at the long strands she still had to cut, "we're shaving a lion's mane to turn him into a nice housecat, isn't that right my boy?"

There was a breaking sound inside his head.

And inside the cell.

The woman stopped with a start and the man swore.

Felix only saw red.

*

**Ingrid**

Ingrid had heard rumors about that place, a thieves den that was causing more trouble than it was worth. The villagers had terrible stories to tell too, about them kidnapping their young, selling them. The few they had found had been scarred for life. Recounting with tears how they had been treated. Some couldn't even speak anymore, looking yards away from reality.

It was a small thing in the grand scale of war, surely. But she was there and armed and she had needed to hit something ever since Felix had left, as they had all known he would since it had all started. Maybe the lack of warning on his part stinged a bit, a goodbye would have been nice instead of simply taking off without a word. But there were warnings. There had been for years. Ever since they had been told that Dimitri had been executed but not believed it, Ingrid had seen it in his disposition. How Felix was speaking less and less, eyes deader and deader as time went and they found nothing except for inhuman slaughter. Sometimes she tortured herself, thinking about if she could have done something to stop him, to help him. If she should have told him to stay, encouraged him to leave. She had almost felt relieved when they had realized that he had left, like a weight had gone from her chest, the inevitable finally happening.

She still felt a bit betrayed and really wanted to lash out on something. A gang of thieves and human traffickers profiting off the lack of guards to terrorize the population was as good a target as any.

It had been a bit hard to find. The rain had been falling for days, erasing footsteps and turning pathways into small rivers, finding the hidden passageways that would lead her where she needed to go had taken a lot more hours than planned, and the few men she had taken with her had looked every bit as aggravated as she felt. One was complaining about water in his armor, the second one growled that she had some in her boots. The others were glaring at them because their complaining wasn't making anything better.

They had hated every second in that miserable weather.

When, finally, they had found the hideout there had been groans and "finally"s mutterred, eyes glaring at the entrance of the place where those who had forced them to walk in such weather lived.

They separated, then. Two on one side, two on the other. Ingrid would wait for the signal telling her that the lookout was taken care of.

And then, once she heard it, she entered the cave. The group was small, she knew, but she still needed to be careful, these caves were dark and could be treacherous. Luckily, she knew Luin to be intimidating enough that most smart people would run seeing it. That was where her men would be coming in.

She didn't have to wait long before hearing a scream, suddenly. Shrill and angry. Just a bit further. Swearing under her breath, she rushed there, lance at the ready.

There was a fleshy sound and then a thump, like something soft but heavy falling on the ground. Not knowing what was happening, she jumped inside the room with a scream, expecting a fight... and there she froze.

Right in front of her, there were three people. One on the ground, a man, gargling, his hands helplessly pawing at something wooden, stuck in his chest. The other two, standing. A woman who had just turned towards her, face torn by anger and fear, and a man, growling, holding what looked like a wooden chair leg.

A man she knew.

Hair cut short and without care, face thinner and dirty, eyes alight with a wild glint, looking more enraged than she had ever seen him, but she knew him all the same.

"Felix?" she mouthed, voiceless.

His stare met hers and he froze too. The woman didn't hesitate, taking her chance and running for dear life. Ingrid swore again, ready to give chase even if just to lead her right into her men's trap. She didn’t have time. Felix roared and, despite his shaky legs, ran after her before Ingrid could. His crest shone, giving him the strength his body so clearly lacked. Ingrid screamed, a wordless shout that she somehow hoped would stop him. He didn't even seem to hear her, rushing with all the power of his long legs. Rage carrying him.

The woman came out, making a turn to the right immediately, right into one of the pathways the rain had turned into a small stream. Ingrid felt the sparks on Felix's fingers before she saw them.

"Felix, wait!" she exclaimed.

The Thoron spell left his hands before she had finished screaming. It hit the water and the woman. She fell into a graceless hump, unconscious at least. Probably dead if Ingrid had to be honest with herself, but her mind barely processed it. She jumped on her friend instead, dragging him back inside.

"It's pouring!" she screamed. "You could have hit yourself with that lightning!"

He was panting, eyes still wild. When he turned to Ingrid, he looked indignant, but his features were lax, like in shock. His hoarse voice broke when he spoke, eyes open wide.

"They cut my hair."

They had indeed. His right side was choppily hacked off, the left one done more meticulously, but still too quickly for it to look decent. It was matted, sticking to his skull because of the rain.

She had always known that Felix loved his hair. The few long strands left were like an insult added to injury, reminding her of their former glory. He had always had beautiful hair...

Why would they have done that? she thought for a second before figuring the why didn't matter. What mattered was her friend, shivering in her arms, looking in shock and were there... chains, around his wrists? How had she not noticed that earlier? Had he broken them off, somehow?

"Lady Galatea!"

One of the soldiers was rushing towards her. She nodded.

"There's someone down there, or maybe he's already a corpse. With the lookout you took care of and that woman, that's three."

"That's all of them," Felix said, remote, his voice still broken and rough, as if he had not used it in a while. “One has my sword.”

"Okay, we’ll get it back, don’t worry. Now come inside, please. You're soaked."

And shivering. He didn't look wounded at least, or at least not much. With the way he almost collapsed on her when he started walking, it looked like the strength boost his crest had given him had just finished running its course.

Ingrid was reeling as she almost dragged him with her. She knew one of hers had first aid supplies, maybe a blanket too. She needed that, right now. Forcing her mind to focus on practicality, she tried to forget for one second her surprise and fear. What was Felix doing here? Why was he... That wasn't the way to the Alliance!

With fear in her heart, telling her they had probably made a terrible mistake, she sat him down. He blinked slowly.

"Are you hurt?" she asked. "I know a bit of Faith magic, I can..."

"I'm fine," he gasped, clearly intending a growl but failing.

He looked famished, haggard, and his hands... Goddess, his wrists and hands...

"There must be something to get rid of these chains..."

"A key..." He blinked again. "They probably have it."

He looked exhausted too, about to fall over any second.

"How long have you been here?" she said, trembling. She stood up and called for her men, telling them to search for a key.

"I don't know." once again, this slow blink, as if he was forcing himself to stay awake. He was still shivering, cold, soaked to the bone. They needed to bring him somewhere warm, soon. Not only was it never a good idea to get under the rain by this cold, but when one was as weakened as he looked? Terrible, terrible idea. Why hadn't he _thought_ for one second before rushing outside?

_They cut my hair._

She shook her head, feeling sick.

"How long have I been missing?"

"Around three weeks."

"That must be it then."

He had been here. This whole time. He had been taken and wasn’t...

"W... Why were you here?" she asked before being able to stop herself. “How did they get you?”

"Went too far. I was looking. For _him_."

For His Highness. Three weeks ago, they had had reports of Empire soldiers being slaughtered around here. But the weather had been bad, so no search party had been started. Of course it hadn't stopped Felix.

"You were looking for His Highness..." she mumbled in shock.

"What else did you think I was doing?" he growled weakly.

She stayed silent, unable to say it or to simply swallow the weight of their mistake. She felt sick, sick of herself. Oh, what had she thought. What had they _all_ thought while they let him rot here...

"Ingrid," he sounded more awake, there, alarm in his voice, "what did you think I was doing?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that we need to get you warm. You're cold and soaked, you’re going to get sick."

His breath hitched and she saw the exact moment he realized what she had thought, what she was so ashamed of having thought. His eyes glazed over, features closing.

"You thought I had left," he whispered.

There were a thousand things she wanted to answer. That they wouldn't have blamed him. That they never thought anything could happen to him so it was the most logical conclusion. That yes, they felt inadequate, to the point of thinking it likely that he left, to find people who wouldn’t let him down as they kept doing.

She stayed silent, her eyes begging him to understand without saying a word.

His eyes went dead.

He didn't say a word on the way back.

To the surprise of no one, he was bedridden for days. Despite the fever, the coughing and the way his legs barely held him up, Ingrid had expected him to argue, to complain. But maybe it was testimony of how weakened he was, how broken, that he hadn't said anything. No one had heard him talk, not even Rodrigue when he had gone to check on his son. Ingrid wondered helplessly if their inaction, their hopeless thoughts were what would finally push him away.

Even washed and brushed, his hair was an ugly mess. Irregular and oddly shaped, nothing to salvage. She had mentioned, softly, that they would need to cut the rest of it, let it grow back by itself until it reached a length he liked again. Softly, so soft he wouldn't hear. She had stayed near the door of his bedroom, unable to enter, unable not to think of how he would react and wondering which of the possible reactions would hurt the most. Sylvain was the one who had gone in, joking around, telling him about how they'd have to cut everything.

Ingrid had only entered to bring him food. Sylvain had talked the whole duration of the meal, filling the silence. She hadn't heard a word of it, what little time she had spent inside, her eyes had been drawn to Felix's slender wrists, marred by red marks. The chains that had held them in place for three weeks.

_They cut my hair._

Ingrid could have pretended she didn't understand why it was that part that had broken him, to the point he had broken chains, killed one of his captors with a moldy chair leg (how he had put enough force to use that kind of thing lethally she didn't know), and then chased another until being able to strike her down.

But she remembered too, all these times Glenn had sat them down to brush and braid it. All the compliments, the times Sylvain had been sincere about it. They had grown being taught that their hair was beautiful and that they needed to take care of it. It was a harmless thing, a feature of no interest for anyone, that they could keep with them, always, a reminder of simpler times, and a thing that defined them. Even now, Ingrid braided her hair the way Glenn had taught her, a memory, something of him she kept with her. Felix's topknot had been very much the same, a memento and maybe his only piece of physical vanity.

They had taken that from him. It seemed so small, but in war times, these small things were what kept you human. And they had taken that from him.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Long, corn coloured hair, so pretty, so elegant. Not glossy and perfect like Dorothea’s or Petra’s (Goddess how her heart felt like a bruise when she thought about them), but still beautiful. How would she feel if captors ripped that part from her?

"Sylvain?"

Her friend raised his head from the book he was reading. A medicine treaty. Good, they could use more healers...

"Yes Inga?"

"I have a favour to ask."

In the evening, she brought Felix dinner.

"Mercedes says you're getting better," she said, entering with no hesitation, "tomorrow, if your fever doesn’t come back, you can leave the room."

He nodded blankly before turning without strength. His eyes fell on her and stayed there, incredulous. She ignored how he looked, giving him his plate.

"Hurry," she said, "once you're down I'll have something to help you with."

"Ingrid," he said with that still pained voice of his, "what are you..."

"Hmm?"

He gestured vaguely in her direction, as if talking was physically painful for him and she needed to understand without it.

"Your hair." he said simply.

Her hair. Cut short, even shorter than his was. She had told Sylvain to think about Leonie when he was asking about the length. He had gone even further and she was glad. She was unrecognizable.

She simply smiled as an answer.

"Who cares about my hair," she said, "tonight I'm taking care of yours."

The scissors were ready. It wouldn't be a piece of art, but it'd be better than that sad, uneven mop. He looked at her again, then nodded and started eating. His wrists were still red, his eyes sunken and his cheeks too thin. No wounds didn't mean no mistreatment and somehow, Ingrid wondered if, whatever they had done to him, he wouldn't have liked physical torment better…

She would fix his hair. It wouldn't fix everything, it definitely wouldn't fix the greatest wound, the one she had left with her lack of faith in him, but she could fix his hair. An olive branch. Solidarity. Hers would grow back the same way his would. They would heal together.

And as she cut the strands, delicately, making sure she wouldn't pull on it or any of the other things these people could have done, she swore something to herself, the very same thing Sylvain had sworn in her ear as he was cutting _her_ hair, shaking a bit, muttering about how he was scared, so scared that it'd happen again, that they let him get taken, that they didn't go save him, that they couldn't let him leave their sight, not like that, not when the last time they had...

Never, she promised desperately, knowing it was impossible, but swearing it all the same. She'd never let anyone hurt him like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heavily sweating* It was all a cruel misunderstanding. But ouchie. Poor Felix, and I'm far from done with him.  
> I kind of feel like the tag is misleading since Ingrid and Felix's relationship is much more explored than the ones with Sylvain, but still, there is some Sylvain and I try not to use too many tags. So here. In any case I think I can safely say that as far as torture or other things like that are concerned this will _probably_ be the worst of them out of the entire story. Like, there will be awful stuff, everywhere, in the main one as much as here, but nothing that should drag on as much, if it makes sense.  
> So anyway, this is my headcanon as to why Felix and Ingrid have shorter hair post time-skip. And in any case, I hope it helped you understand where these three's relationship stands at the beginning of Searching for Shadows; with Ingrid and Sylvain being extra protective while Felix believes they think he's going to leave... It's all a sad misunderstanding on everyone's part, but still, Felix appreciates Ingrid's gesture at the end. So there's a lot of space for healing <3


	2. 2 - Trust Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix, Yuri and Claude end up in a weird and scary situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up writing it, huh. There are a few things I feel like I need to say before this chapter. The first is "damn, a Felix chapter? _Again_?"  
> It was very weird to realize that out of all the bonus chapters I have started writing, I would end up posting the two Felix chapters first :/ It kind of makes sense since they are... kind of the only two (for now at least) to happen before the start of the story, but they were neither the first nor the last I had planned for, so it still feels pretty weird x)  
> The second is that... at times I really feel like this should have been a main story chapter, since it's how one of the most important relationships in the story was born, but there were two things stopping me from putting it there. The first was the format. It just... feels like its own self-contained story, it's one big event, not one of the flashback chapters that usually establishes (or at least _tries_ to establish) many little details that come to play later... The second was that I sincerely wasn't sure where to put it. I usually try to have links in between chapters, that give a bit of sense to the back-and-forth, but here I honestly couldn't find a place for it.  
> ... I also used to have a third reason but it's stupid. Basically it was about how it was hella self-indulgent and a typical fanfiction plot that kinda goes deus ex machina. Except, you know. I _am_ writing a fanfic, so let me be self-indulgent and use plot hacks so I can have my three favourite characters becoming friends. Thanks and yes. I do believe it's not my best writing by far (too many confusing moments, others too convenient, feelings that I didn't manage to convey well enough...), but at least it's out there and not sitting in my drafts of unsatisfying chapters anymore!  
> I think that's all I had to say? In any case, I hope you enjoy it!

**Trust Fall**

When Felix came to, he was laying down in the grass. He blinked, trying to figure out when he had fallen asleep. When he had fallen asleep _in grass_. What had he been doing? He was... he was talking with someone wasn't he? Right, Claude! He had found Claude in the library, him and Yuri speaking together. He had been looking for Yuri, wanting to talk about how it was he incorporated spells with his sword wielding, hoping it’d make Reason Magic click in his mind.

And then here he was. Laying down.

There was a groan at his left and the grass shifted. Slowly, he could see Yuri's small figure, standing, looking dazed.

"The hell?" the teenager mumbled, voice hoarse.

"My thoughts exactly," another voice moaned behind them.

"Oh hey," Yuri greeted, voice heavy, "you two are here too."

"Where is _here_?" Claude added. "I'm not insane yet, am I? We were in the library just a few seconds ago."

"Confirmed," Yuri answered.

Felix just sat down, looking at the grass. It was fresh, Spring grass. The kind you got at dawn during the Harpstring Moon. Except... It was Fall, right now.

"The hell?" he echoed Yuri's sentiment.

"I don't even see the monastery, from here," Claude said, "did we miss something? It'd take one hell of a hit on the head to have all three of us get such memory loss."

The monastery indeed wasn't in sight. What he could see, however, was a small town. Eerily familiar. And even more familiar, to the point that his breath got stuck in his throat, was the castle right behind it.

"See something you recognize, Stray Cat?" Yuri asked lightly.

If there was something he recognized? If he didn't have a better hold on his physical reactions, Felix would have started laughing nervously here and there. Nothing made sense. Everything was weird. But mostly, how and why the hell were they here?

"Yes," he simply answered instead, "that is castle Fraldarius."

**???th day of the ????? Moon, Imperial Year ?????**

**Felix**

It almost felt like floating when they walked. Felix didn't even remember how they got there. It was almost like one second they were in these fields, near the town, and the next they were walking in the grey, grey halls of the castle. Incredibly grey, greyer than they really were, as if every colour had been drained from them. Even without knowing the place, it was obvious Yuri and Claude had realized how strange it was. They were glancing around, looking disturbed. They hadn't met even one person. Why hadn't they met anyone yet? The castle was often a sad place, too practical to be welcoming, but except in the worst times - when his father was in the capital and Sylvain and Ingrid back home and Felix stuck here because he was ill too young not strong enough not calm enough not enough not enough not enough - it had never been _empty_. They needed to find someone, know what was happening, warn that they were, that they...

Footsteps.

They heard it, all three of them. Footsteps, someone getting closer. It should be good news, it should be. So what was that trepidation? Why was Felix so scared?

The voice stayed silent. It had never been silent like that in so many years, what was going on, who was...

Sylvain?

Felix's heart jumped in chest. At the corner of the corridor - long, long corridor, they weren't that long, they had seemed gigantic as a kid but he knew they weren’t, why did they seem so long now - there was Sylvain. But not Sylvain.

It was him, not a doubt. Red hair, handsome face, winning smile. But it also wasn't him, no uniform, no girl at his arm, smaller than Felix remembered, covered in bandages. It was Sylvain, but it wasn't Sylvain as Felix had seen him the last time they had met. It was Sylvain.

As he had been at seventeen years old.

Felix forgot about Yuri and Claude. His chest felt tight and heavy, his breath cutting out, stuck inside his throat. And Sylvain smiled.

"Don't worry," he laughed, "it was just an accident. I will be fine!"

And around him, the castle wasn't grey. Colours. Light and shadows, no more of that monochrome life, no more of that loneliness. Just Sylvain and all the colours he brought with him and he was _covered in bandages_.

"Come on," he was laughing, "say something! I told you it was an accident."

Miklan had done this. He knew that Miklan had done this, pushed him down the stairs, not even cared if anyone watched. He had hit his head, been in danger, actual, real danger.

"Felix?" Claude's voice interrupted the memories for a second and Felix turned, knowing just how wide and shocked his eyes must be.

"What's going on?" he asked as if Claude would have the answers.

Of course Claude didn't. And Sylvain was getting closer, and with him the colours, surrounding him, the only happiness in this place, the only light the thing that _hurt, more than anything_ and Felix stepped. back.

"What is going on?" he repeated, voice strangled.

Sylvain was upon them, and taller than all three of them, but younger, every bit as fake as he was right now, but younger, and he raised a hand, a heavily bandaged hand, as if to put on Felix's shoulder and Felix knew how this ended, he pushed it off, snarled something and left. And it’d happen again, another day, where he’d leave again to find Miklan, to _destroy_ him for what he did, feeling himself drowning in fear and horror because that _was_ what Glenn had been talking about and it was just luck that Sylvain was still alive and Felix would not lose him too, he would not he would not he would not...

Claude reached out to pull him away from Sylvain's hand, but before he could touch him, Felix stumbled and fell, and fell, and fell...

A few seconds or an eternity later, they were in a run-down building, moldy wood and creaking stairs. There was a bed there, but not one anyone would want to lay in.

"What..." Claude started, face spooked. "What was that?"

"I think it was Sylvain," Felix said, hands shaking, "but..."

"Yeah, no shit," Claude groaned, "but not how we know him. And what was the deal with the colours."

"It was Sylvain in the past," Yuri said.

Felix turned to him. The young man wasn't facing them, instead staring at the door, leading to stairs that looked so dangerous no sane man would want to take them.

"How did you guess?" he asked. It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense! What was happening!

Yuri turned to them, his smile entirely absent. If anything, he looked scared too, nervous hands fidgeting.

"I'm not sure how it's possible," he said slowly, "but it's like we're in... memories or something?"

"That doesn't make sense," Claude said bluntly.

"Bold words from someone who says he's given up on studying magic a long time ago," Yuri laughed nervously, "but that's the only explanation I have right now."

"Because we saw Sylvain looking younger?" Not just younger, he looked exactly the way he did the day Felix had realized that... well, not like Claude would know that...

"Well, not just that," Yuri said, looking as if he really, _really_ didn't want to be there, "it's this place, too. It shouldn't exist anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Yuri gestured vaguely.

"I made sure it was destroyed years ago. This was the place where I grew up."

There were a few seconds of silence, as if to let them take in that information. Claude's bemused " _What?_ " was muffled by sudden noises. Heavy, heavy steps, the kind that belonged into nightmares only and Felix could feel Yuri flinch by his side. It was almost instinctual to try to push him behind him.

His hand went through the young man.

There was a gasp, filling the silence, before the door opened. It took Felix a second to realize it wasn't either of them making it, but a fourth person.

There was a woman in the room, standing up and glaring at the door, where a dark-haired man was standing, arms crossed.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed. "You have a customer."

"Do I?" she answered, voice laced with venom. "I seem to remember saying that I couldn't work today. Or did you forget that my son is still ill?"

"And you staying here won't change a thing! Now come!"

"Damn you, man," she spat, furious, her pale fair falling on her shoulders as she untied it, "I'll come and get you when your children will be dying. Force you to work. See how you feel about that!"

The man moved forwards, rage distorting his face. She wasn't intimidated.

"Go ahead," she hissed again, "hit me or some shit. Have you forgotten that my job involves getting naked? Go ahead, see how many customers you lose when they get damaged goods. Wanna take that bet?"

"If you won't work," he growled, "then I don't have anything to lose."

Another silhouette intervened. Another man. An old one, with light green eyes. He was pale, but his wrinkles looked soft. His face looked a bit blurry, fading, but his eyes were distinctly kind.

"Enough," he told the man, "you do not get to treat her that way."

For just one second, there was fear in the man's eyes and he stepped back, still angry, still full of disdain.

"Fine," he spat, "but you leave that room right now. It's the only one currently free. Or have you forgotten that this was your workplace?"

"It's also our home," the woman mumbled, turning towards them.

And then they were falling again.

They landed harshly, air escaping their lungs as if they had really been falling. Felix groaned, trying to stand up again and to make sense of all that had just happened.

"This thing should decide," Yuri grumbled with annoyance, "can we touch things, or not?"

Felix tried to elbow him and went right through him again. Still a no, apparently. Now what the hell had just been that scene they had seen? He turned to Yuri, raising an eyebrow. The young man was scowling, as if he had swallowed something terribly bitter.

"Apparently wherever we are, it likes bad memories," he grumbled before looking around him, trying to figure out where they were.

Immediately, he jumped backwards in shock.

Wings. Gigantic wings. The biggest wyvern he had ever seen was looming over them, pearly white, just like her fangs. She started growling.

By Felix's side, there was a soft swear word, echoing.

Claude was still on the ground, staring ahead, in shock, at the beast.

They were on some rocky ground, Felix noticed vaguely, much more concerned by the thing currently looking about to eat them alive. And then, Claude jumped on his feet, hands raised as if to show he was unarmed. The beast growled again before coming closer, sniffing at him. Something twinkled in the light of day, the warm sun burning on their skin and reflecting on metal. Something metallic on their leg.

Some kind of manacle.

Felix's blood ran cold as he clutched it, trying to get it off. While he apparently could touch his own body, his strength refused to answer him, and the manacle stayed put, not moving the slightest from where it was stopping him from walking, escaping. Meanwhile, the beast's snout was still poking Claude, who was immobile, like frozen, probably scared out of his mind.

"What the hell is that?" Yuri asked, weirdly interested. "I don't recognize this place."

"Don't you have anything more important to think about?" Felix hissed, a bit of hysteria escaping his throat against his will.

"Not really?" Yuri said with a smile desperately hiding his unease. "If I'm right and we're reliving memories right now, well, obviously, our dear Claude survived this one."

Memories, right. Felix felt his heart slightly slow down. He looked around. Mountains. That was the only thing he was sure of, they were surrounded by mountains. And it was hot, the sun heavy and harsh.

Claude was still in front of the wyvern, but the beast was stepping back. The teenager exhaled slowly. And then there was a voice.

Young, younger than any of them. Speaking in a language Felix didn't know but somehow _understood_ right now.

" _Can you understand me?_ " It said.

The beast rumbled.

" _Can... Can you help me?_ "

Jingling, chains. Felix's eyes were drawn to the manacle on his leg, then up again in shock. The beast's smart, terribly smart eyes squinted at Claude. Or more likely, a much smaller Claude than the teenager standing in front of her.

And then she lunged ahead, hard teeth closing on something and Felix jumped in alarm. The chains broke and fell to the ground, without even a drop of blood due to an unfortunate bite.

The next second, they were back inside, stone corridors and dark lighting, the air cold, cold, freezing and familiar.

"No falling this time," Yuri noticed.

Felix inhaled slowly to stop himself from panicking. Not Fraldarius this time either. But the Royal Palace was still some place he knew well, too well.

"Okay let's review," Yuri kept going, humming, "Sylvain Gautier looking all beaten up, my oh so wonderful childhood home and Claude almost getting eaten by a wyvern."

"Do you have to?" Felix couldn't help but groan.

"Well, we're not sure what's happening to us," Yuri reasoned as they walked in the palace, their feet carrying them without orders but Felix knowing exactly where they were headed and feeling his stomach drop at that thought, "so in the meantime, gathering info seems a good idea, don't you agree?"

It was. What was worrying, however, was that _Yuri_ was mentioning it. Not that it wasn't like him, no. Just that they were with someone who was usually incredibly curious and talkative but who had just been _terribly_ silent ever since they had landed into his memory.

Felix looked at Claude. He was pale. His eyes were deeply remote, his mouth firmly shut.

"What is going on?" Felix scowled at him. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

The teenager jumped, startled, as if he had forgotten they were here. Okay, bad, very bad. What in Ailell was going on with him?

"I think Yuri is right." These words sounded like they were torn from his throat, as if just pronouncing them was torture.

Yuri had lost his smile, noticing his unease too. Thinking about it, he had looked incredibly nervous too earlier. Was him taking charge his way of calming his nerves?

"What is going on, friend?"

Claude's green eyes avoided them, staring behind Felix instead. They were outside, now. On top of a balcony. Felix refused to turn. He knew exactly what memory was running.

" _I know what you did to him._ "

His breath hitched and he could hear Miklan's snarl. Claude's eyes opened wide in shock, Felix closing his own as he felt his body fall, fall, fall.

When he opened them, they were somewhere else. A small town. Silence. Deep silence.

After a few seconds, Claude tried to pat his shoulder. It went through him, of course.

"Let's not mention it," he said with a clipped voice.

"Take off your hand," Felix growled. It didn't even touch him. But right now he didn't know what to say other than that.

The town was poor. And distinctively Faerghan, though more typical of Western Faerghus than Eastern Faerghus. They were back to Yuri, he figured with a frown. Yuri who was right, they needed to figure out what was going on.

"How does it pick the memories?" Yuri asked, chagrined, and that was his tone of voice that attracted Felix's attention.

"Maybe it takes your worst ones?" he suggested without believing it.

After all, these memories were bad, yes. But far from his worst ones. There had been no bent armor coming back home, no Boar losing his mind laughing...

"Probably not," Yuri said, which said a lot, really.

"Yeah," Claude added, uneasy, "probably not."

The woman from last time was there with them too, walking briskly, her pale, lavender hair flowing in the wind, cheap make-up on her face. But she was smiling, of all things, looking at them.

"Is that for me?" she said with laughter. "They are lovely!"

Flowers. She was holding flowers, now, her pretty face overjoyed.

"Now I hope you didn't steal them," she added.

"I didn't," Yuri muttered before any disembodied voice could be heard, repeating the words, "but I did steal a coin purse."

The woman tutted, disappointed, but knowing.

"We cannot depend on stealing, you know?" she said with a soft voice. "I know I can't provide for you as much as I wish I did, but I promise you. We will both find honest work, that will give us all we need."

"You already do more than enough," Yuri added, "and it's all I can do."

"You don't have to do anything," she swore, "I promise you you don't. Parents protect their children, sweetie. Not the other way around."

Yuri sighed and the scene morphed again. Felix tilted his head, trying to think. It was starting to make sense, almost? Both of his memories had had to do with Sylvain. Both of Yuri's had had to do with that woman - his mother Felix figured. Now if Claude's had to do with...

With what? Wyverns? Being tied up? Mountains maybe?

No.

This was... a feast?

A gigantic circle of low tables, surrounding fire on which some meat was being roasted. Felix was almost hungry just looking at it, it seemed delicious. People were talking and laughing, sitting on colourful fabric. Two dancers were moving along to frenzied music, while a big, burly man was proclaiming something Felix couldn't hear, but that sounded like a tale for children.

He glanced at Claude and saw him even paler than last time. Nothing dangerous seemed to surround them this time, but Felix stayed on his guard. People were joking around, but here they were - he was, sitting in front of a snake.

A snake. Felix jumped but Claude wasn't looking at the animal, instead peering at the group of people, the people obstructing his view of the man proclaiming stories out loud. They tried to walk through them but couldn't. In fact the moving masses were bringing them far and farther from the man, away from the people and the feast, like a horde swallowing him. He tried to move away, but then there was a hand on him, dragging him aside and something against his mouth, muffling a squeal of surprise.

"Where are you taking him?"

Air, suddenly, fresh air. The storyteller was here, talking in that language that _couldn't_ be Fodlanese but that Felix understood all the same. The man looked angry, terribly so, despite his welcoming face.

Other voices, apologies, some saying that "the lad just looked like needed some air, we didn't think further than that". Wrong, wrong wrong. That wasn't it. There had been a threat, there. The storyteller put his hand on his shoulder and got him back to the feast, looking suspicious.

"Just tell me if that’s what I think, boy. I'll warn your pops."

"No," he was lying, lying, but this was something he'd deal with by himself, "don't you worry about it."

And they fell, once again. Felix closed his eyes again, not daring to see where they had landed this time. Yuri shifted.

"So," he said slowly, "the Gautiers, my childhood and... you feeling like you're about to die?"

Claude was silent, once again, and Felix opened his eyes to see his face. Blank. Most of the fear had disappeared, but the emptiness replacing it was even more worrying.

"I figured out what's going on, I think."

Felix tensed up, ready to ask and yet dreading the answer. At that moment, someone banged at the door and Felix startled… It was his bedroom. Oh no what was...

"Felix!" a voice he knew well screamed. Mariette, their intendant, a severe woman with a hidden soft spot for him.

" _Go away, Mariette!_ " He heard himself yell back, a dry sob stuck in his throat.

"I cannot, young master," she said severely, "you will regret it if I leave without forcing you out of your room."

It was embarrassing. So deeply embarrassing, and he could feel mortification flushing on his face as he remembered where this was going and...

Oh. Oh so _that_ was the link.

"The young master Sylvain is about to leave," she said slowly, "I don't know what he did that hurt you this time, but I know not saying goodbye to him will feel worse."

Flashes, almost distorting the air, like snippets of memories floating in front of their eyes. Sylvain with his tongue down a girl's throat, Sylvain flirting with a maid even though they had been talking just before, as if Felix held no more importance, Sylvain talking about girls, girls, girls, girls, until Felix just couldn't bear it anymore.

He hadn't cried since the Western Rebellion, but something was heavy in his throat and he almost wanted them to fall so sweet numbness could follow them. So he could stop _feeling_ so much.

" _Go away,_ " he heard himself repeat, weakly.

"Felix Hugo Fraldarius," he heard Mariette hiss, "you are going to get out of this room or I swear to the Goddess I am breaking this damn door!"

Leaving that memory felt like getting kicked that time. Felix knew he was blushing in embarrassment. It had been so immature, so childish of him and once the heartbreak had passed he had felt so ashamed.

The fact that neither of his companions had reacted, teasing him as they certainly would have usually, wasn't exactly reassuring. It should have been, he felt like, maybe, he should have been happy about that.

Instead, both of them were looking blank, though their expressions were deeply different.

"I was right," Claude mumbled.

"What?" Felix croaked, even though he was pretty sure he understood it too now, or at least part of it.

"Felix... You have a crush on Sylvain, don't you?"

" _What does this have to do with anything?_ " He had tried to be aggressive, but his voice was too high-pitched and embarrassed for it to work.

They were in Garreg Mach, he noticed, but not any place in Garreg Mach, no. It was Abyss, and they were speaking with a man Felix wasn’t sure he had ever seen... Or perhaps once, months ago, in the Cathedral?

"Don't you forget," he was saying, "that I have a guest."

 _"You won't let me forget,"_ Yuri's voice answered coldly, _"don't you worry."_

The man tutted.

"Even changed your name so no one would find her. It was a good try, but too little too late. After all, I found _you_ , didn't I?"

Yuri hissed and Claude laughed, almost hysterically.

"And you," he told Yuri, eyes wide open, "you don't want anyone to know about your mother, so no one can use her against you."

The stare Yuri sent him was nervous, even if hidden behind a blank expression. He was right, Felix knew instantly, Claude was right.

"Secrets," he mumbled, "we're reliving our secrets?"

"More like events betraying our secrets," Yuri said reluctantly.

He took a shuddering breath and put his head into his hands, trying to hide how overwhelmed he was. Felix was still flustered, but embarrassment was a small price to pay, he knew. And that was all his secret could bring him, here. He had already ruined his relationship with Sylvain, anyway, he thought bitterly, so it wasn't as if them knowing about it could ruin anything more. Yuri, though?

It was a matter of life and death. Protecting his mother. But then... that just begged one question.

"Claude?" he asked slowly. "What is the secret your memories have been revealing?"

Claude didn't answer. He stared ahead, to the door leading out of the box they were in. A horse box, but without any horse in it. A man's head, the storyteller from last time, was looking at them from outside.

"You're sure, boy? She looks like she really needs help."

" _I'll take care of her._ "

There was a small wyvern, laying in the hay between them. Barely a baby, with white scales. She was breathing weakly and there was a wound on her leg that looked bad, pretty bad.

"She's not going to die just because you leave her for a few seconds, kiddo."

" _Yes she is._ "

Felix almost flinched. He had never heard Claude sound so murderous. This voice was still breaking, he sounded much younger than the man he knew.

 _"I saw them._ " he hissed and there were flashes of that gigantic white wyvern from the other day, flying and growling and protecting him from an arrow, an arrow that would have killed him, and then falling, falling, taking hit after hit until she was dead, dead meat guarding his vulnerable body.

"I like to think that no one in Almyra would be dumb enough to kill a wyvern outside of battle."

_"They would! They killed Lujayn's mother! They would have killed her too! I'm not letting them do that!"_

It was almost unhinged, the pain and anger were terrifying. Felix glanced at Yuri, wondering if he, too, felt shocked by it. It was Claude! Claude was never angry. What was...

"Boy..."

 _"Don't say they wouldn't, Nader,"_ Claude spat, _"I saw them. They would, just because she's mine and they know it. She chose me, and they hate it. They hate it so much they'd rather be damned by our Gods than let me rule them one day."_

Felix felt like his head was splitting open. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was starting to have his suspicions...

"Claude?" he tried again.

Claude stayed silent, teeth greeted as if bracing himself for a hit. The storyteller - Nader - was speaking again, softer.

"Almyrans are stupid," he was saying, "but you will show them. After all, if you're as protective of your people as you are of your wyverns, they should know you'll make a magnificent king, prince Khalid, no matter where your blood comes from."

Felix didn't know if the punch he felt in the stomach was them getting thrown out of that memory, or him trying to grasp the enormity of what he had just heard.

What he knew, however, was that once they were back on stone floor and Fraldarius territory and secrets that _didn't_ imply secret royalty, he exploded.

"Seiros rip my balls, _why can't you guys have normal secrets for a change_?!"

It lasted hours. After a while, you got used to having to relive all the times you had made a fool out of yourself, pining for a man who would never return your feelings, and all of that with witnesses. Maybe it would have been more unbearable with anyone else, Felix ended up thinking blankly. People with no deep secrets, who would make fun of him for his stupidity. Instead, he was stuck with two terrified young men whose secrets were more dangerous than he could have imagined.

To be honest, Felix might not have realized that Yuri's secret was one at first, which was probably why the teenager had looked nervous, but not terrified either until that scene, with the man threatening her safety. Many variations of it had been shown since, Felix tried not to look too much at them, feeling like watching them would be voyeuristic.

But worse even were Claude's memories. Because each and every one of them was a reminder of how dangerous his secret was.

In all truth, Felix didn't give a shit. Almyra's crown prince was half Fodlanese but had answered Duke Riegan's call for an heir when said Duke Riegan's health had started failing. From what he had seen, it had mostly been curiosity for his mother's heritage, maybe a wish to escape, too, from a court that disliked him just for who he was.

Fodlan was no better when it came to foreigners than Almyra seemed to be, and Leicester was full of snakes who would have him dead at the first opportunity. Yes, Claude's origins had to be guarded for his own safety, that was obvious, anyone with a brain would know it. But Felix himself didn't give a shit.

The memories were so full of fear he felt ill, sometimes, when they appeared.

So yes, in comparison, he was entirely fine with his memories being revealed. At least they just betrayed a bit of immaturity on his part, something that would go away, eventually, he hoped. It was embarrassing and he would murder them if they said word of it to anyone, but definitely not that bad.

"Almyran food seems good," he grumbled as they were sent in yet another feast.

After all, ignoring all the implications of each and every memory, commenting on everything else, was much more pleasant than living them. Awkward, but more pleasant. And it had done wonders to force Claude to relax.

The young man looked so trapped everytime it was turn to show more of his secret; it was sickening. Felix understood why, if he had to be honest. Such a secret revealed without his consent, and to two men he had known for not even three months. It would have petrified lesser men with fear. And Felix wouldn't have picked Yuri as his first choice, seeing how this was the exact kind of info the man dealt with as currency. By Ailell, he wouldn't have picked himself either! Not that he was the kind to blabber about things like that, but he wasn't exactly the nicest or kindest person in the world and he knew it. _Trustworthy_ probably wasn't the first thought people had about him.

After his initial explosion, though, he had just grumbled angry words, head in his hand as he measured the importance of what he had just learnt. _Oh, whatever_ , he remembered mumbling afterwards, _guess we'll have to make sure, whatever this is, that it doesn't happen anymore once we're back. Can't have anyone else learn about this._

Claude's face would have been funny in any other situation. Felix was too reeling and frustrated to actually enjoy it. And Yuri had stood by his side as they watched him search for red hair in a crowd while in Fhirdiad, until learning that the Gautiers weren't coming. Yuri had stayed silent too for a while. It was only during the next memory from Claude - a hunt on a wyvern’s back, him holding his father's crown as he watched him fly - that Yuri spoke again.

" _I owe you my life, friend,_ " he had told Claude, _"I will not betray your trust. Not on this. I swear it._ "

Claude had just nodded in silence, clearly not entirely convinced he could believe him. But as time went and no idea as to how they would leave coming to them (apparently understanding their predicament didn't do anything and them trying to act during memories did nothing), they started talking. About random things. Claude complained about the cold in their memories, Felix complained about the heat in Almyra, Yuri noted things about the way nobles were dressed that would make stealing from them hard or easy.

It wasn't the most riveting of conversations, but at least it occupied their time and let them focus on something else than the disturbing amount of privacy they were unwillingly intruding on.

Claude was explaining to him, voice still remote but at least not looking scared anymore, which spices they used to add flavor to the meat on a particular dish at the feast when the earth shook.

Surprised, all three men started looking at each other.

"What the..." Yuri started.

He didn't get to finish before it was like a hand grabbed them all, pulling sharply from behind. Felix gasped a strangled yell, gritting his teeth. He turned, ready to fight.

And found himself in front of Manuela Casagranda.

"He's awake!" the nurse yelled at someone behind her. "The counter agent worked!"

"Thank Goodness." mumbled the tired voice of their teacher.

Lysithea's small figure ran to him and he realized, vaguely, that he was sitting on a bed.

"Shit," he mumbled, feeling a bit faint, "my head hurts like a bitch..."

"That's to be expected," Lysithea nodded as she looked at him with a critical eye, "the spell was heavy."

"What happened?" Yuri's voice, in the bed next to his, was severe.

Felix threw a glance at him, only half surprised to have him looking harsher than he had ever seen him. That was to be expected, with what he had been forced to reveal... Professor Eisner appeared at the corner of his eye and looked at Lysithea expectantly. The tiny mage lowered her eyes.

On Felix's other side, Claude made a small, pained noise, sitting up too. He looked absolutely exhausted and there was a redness on his face that was a bit strange. Lysithea looked at all three of them and bowed, contrite.

"My apologies. I was trying two experimental spells at the same time, in the library, and lost control. They hit you and well..."

"We've been trying to wake you up for thirty minutes," Manuela said with a relieved sigh, "Apparently the sleeping spell's counter agent was delayed because of the other spell."

"Other spell?" Felix wiped his eyes, still feeling like his head was far too heavy and painful for a simple sleeping spell.

"Yeah," Lysithea mumbled, "a truth spell. Well, I don't think it had any effect since you were, you know, asleep, but it definitely made waking you up harder. This won't happen again, I promise."

Felix fell back on the bed with a groan. He heard Manuela gasp and wondered what was going on. His head was killing him and he just wanted to sleep. _Real_ sleep this time, enough to forget about the mortification and the maddening secrets he had just learnt.

"Oh, Claude, dear," the nurse exclaimed, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the young man said, his voice so hoarse Felix knew he was crying before he even turned to him and saw him try a teary smile, so shaky anyone had to know how fake it was, "I was just... having a sad dream."

**5th day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Manuela forced them to stay and rest for a few more hours in the infirmary. These were a blessing, blissful unconsciousness taking him and giving him a dreamless sleep. When he woke again, there was a weight on his bed. Or two. Two young men, sitting on it and talking with low voices.

Felix stared at them, wondering why exactly Claude and Yuri had elected to stay there instead of one simply getting to the other's bed, if they had to talk.

"You're serious?" he grumbled at them. "You're gonna sit _here_?"

"Hey there Stray Cat," Yuri welcomed him with a smile, "sorry if we woke you up."

He sat, too, to get to their level. Outside, the sun was setting. It was getting late, he thought, hopefully Manuela would release them soon.

"Were you talking about how we shall never mention any of this ever again?" he scowled at them.

"Kind of," Claude smiled faintly.

"Good."

There was silence and Felix rolled his eyes when he saw how they were staring at him.

"Seriously", he said, pointing at Yuri, "I don't have any reason to ever mention your mother to anyone, don't you worry about that shit. And you?" he then pointed at Claude. "I don't care. I simply don't. Just don't get yourself killed over this kind of stuff, that'd be a dumb way to finish that year."

"Right," Claude snorted with fondness, "your leader dying before the end of the year. How inconvenient. Of course that's what's worrying you."

Felix glared at him, but it was hard, in front of his soft smile. It looked genuine too...

"It's the same here," Yuri said with a light voice, "it feels a bit unequal, since Khalid here already knew my secret, but I don't intend to ever reveal what I learnt to anyone."

Claude winced at the mention of his real name. Felix tried it in his mouth too, the sound unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. He had chosen his other name well, the two sounded similar enough.

"Don't worry," Yuri added, waving Claude’s worries away, "I don't intend to say it where anyone but us three can hear. And I know when we're in private. Consider me using it as the proof that we're in a safe zone."

Claude exhaled slowly, his body relaxing.

"This is bad for my heart," he muttered, "I hadn't heard it in literal years."

Felix gave himself three seconds to ponder the loneliness of such a statement and decided that, despite his own preference for solitude, he definitely didn’t envy it.

"That sucks," he simply shrugged.

Both men looked at him weirdly, as if he had just said something strange. He stared back, annoyed. Claude was smiling again, almost amused, and Felix had no idea why. What was so funny in what he had just said?

"It does," Claude answered, "thanks."

"Are you thanking me for stating the obvious?"

"I am," Claude laughed, with actual joy in his voice, "thank you, Felix."

He didn't get it. He sincerely didn't. And so he scoffed, averting his eyes, feeling a bit flustered by the unexpected sincerity in the words. Claude wasn’t someone who often spoke from the heart. Having him thank him so sincerely for showing just a bit of sympathy was… Well, he didn’t know how to describe it. Both humbling and painful, in a way. But also so much more.

They talked a bit more before Manuela arrived and considered them well enough to leave the infirmary. They left together, Yuri and Claude discussing, apparently without any care in the world, poisons of all things. Felix commented on their practicality, surprised at how easy it was to add his own remarks yo a conversation on a subject he knew nothing about. They separated once they got to the dorms, Felix looking at them leaving, unsure how he felt once again. Unsure because most of it wasn't bad.

No one had mentioned his own secret. Probably because compared to theirs, it was so small in the grand scheme of things, yet he already knew none of them would betray it either.

Felix wasn't ignorant of the weight of secrets, he figured as he entered his room, he had been hiding two from the man he had fallen for for years now. But these were heavy, much heavier than his.

Yet he felt… strangely fine. Almost lighter than before.

He closed the door with febrile fingers. Training could wait for tomorrow. Right now, he needed time for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this is what happens in my mind when I realize there's absolutely no way Claude would have revealed his heritage willingly. "A wizard made him do it".  
> Welp. At least he made good friends thanks to it.  
> Funny how easy it was to decide on everyone's secret. Felix is a very honest person except when it comes to his feelings, so something small like a crush made sense. The DLC gives us Aelfric threatening Yuri's mother and gang to make him obey, so it was an obvious one too. And Claude, welp. His whole character (and the whole reason for that chapter) had to do with that one secret, so of course! Also the great thing about how hazy what we learn of his backstory is, is that while we know it clearly sucked REALLY BAD, we are free to imagine whatever we want. So here we have me, trying to get a grasp of how he got Lujayn and the multiple attempts on his life at the same time.  
> Thank you so much for reading and see you soon in the main story for *checks notes* wait, _another Felix chapter_?  
> Damn, if it keeps going, one day I'll have to accept that he's become the second protagonist of that story, along with Judai...


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